


tied up in ancient history

by lilythesilly



Series: (episode) tag, you're it! [5]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Coming Out, Panic Attacks, episode tag: s05ep11 Meet The Parents, here have some more feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilythesilly/pseuds/lilythesilly
Summary: “Mom, dad—” He starts but his voice gets caught in his throat and he needs to clear it.He starts over. “Mom, dad, I’m—” he gets a little closer but his breath catches and he feels like something is clawing at his throat.Patrick figures out exactly what he wants to say to his parents. Set during/post Meet the Parents.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: (episode) tag, you're it! [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118210
Comments: 24
Kudos: 187





	tied up in ancient history

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, here's another episode coda! Aka my take on what Patrick did during 'Meet the Parents' (which was he freaked tf out). Huge thanks to [roguebaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguebaby) who took a look at this when I hit my usual mid-edit freak out. 
> 
> title from "Brighter Than Sunshine" by Aqualung.

Patrick is proud of the fact that he at least waits for the door to close after David to have his panic attack. 

It’s been a while since he’s had one this bad, but he can feel that familiar cold weight settle in his chest and start to seep it’s way through his entire body. He sits back down on the couch so that he can put his head in between his knees like David taught him and take deep breaths. 

No matter the number of deep breaths he takes or happy places he tries to focus on (the store, the motel, _David, David, David_ ) he can’t ignore the sound of blood rushing in his ears, coursing against his eardrum like waves in a storm. 

Sitting still in one place is starting to have the opposite effect he wants to and his breath is starting to pick up and catch in his throat instead of returning back to normal. He stands quickly and has to brace himself on the edge of the couch from the head rush. 

His eyes flick back over to the bouquet of flowers that David brought and decides that’s as good a distraction as any.

He grabs the vase from the cabinet and fills it with water and grabs a pair of scissors, unraveling the green ribbon holding the bouquet together. 

Receiving flowers from a significant other was never something that he thought he needed. He bought flowers all the time, sure—daisies for Rachel, pink carnation and rose bouquets for his mom on mothers day—but he never really thought about what it would be like to get them.

The first time David bought him flowers was on their five month anniversary. He came into the store that morning hiding both a smile and something behind his back. 

“Good morning,” he said. 

David smirked and came around the counter at an odd angle, so Patrick couldn’t see what he was hiding. “Good morning to you,” he said and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for the doughnuts this morning.”

Patrick had gotten Ivan to make a dozen jelly filled doughnuts (David’s favorite) with ' _Happy 5 Months'_ spelled out in bright pink icing. 

“I’m glad they went over well.” Patrick smirked, “I see none of them made the trip here though.” 

David shook his head. “Oh, no. If you ever want anything leftover, best not set it in front of my family.”

He cleared his throat and bit his lip (a combo Patrick knew meant he was nervous). His hands must have twitched because there’s a rustling behind his back, “Um, I also got you something.” 

“I thought doing monthly anniversary gifts was ‘tempting fate’.” He teased. 

“I don’t mind anymore.” David said and finally showed Patrick what he’d been hiding behind his back: a tasteful bouquet of red roses. “For you.” 

Patrick felt his face flush and at that moment his eyes probably turned into actual hearts. “ _David_.”

David shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, even though it was. It was a really big deal. “I wanted to get you chrysanthemums because roses felt a little too on the nose, but um, the florist only had these.”

Patrick brought the bouquet up to his nose to smell them—it’s what you’re supposed to do when you get flowers right? 

“Well I happen to love roses, so. Thank you.” Patrick traced one of the petals with his index finger. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.” 

David huffed like he’d been personally offended. “Well that is a gross oversight that I will be rectifying _immediately._ ” 

He looks down at the bouquet on his counter now and can’t help but smile, his breath finally coming down to a more even pace. David’s gotten him so many flowers at this point that the meanings sort of pop into his head without thinking (white sunflowers and white roses to signify innocence and youthfulness, green hydrangeas to signify good health and good fortune—perfect for birthdays.)

He picks up one of the roses and holds it level with the vase so he can figure out how much to cut off. He lets himself get lost in the snip of the scissors and the repetitive motion of dropping one into the vase and picking another one up. 

He laughs a little at the thought of _David Rose_ throwing him a surprise party. (“Patrick a party is a personal immersive experience that takes time and energy to get ready for—why would you just _spring_ that on someone?”)

Salmonella at the cafe. It wasn’t the most unbelievable excuse he could’ve used. 

Unfortunately the excitement over David planning one anyway is clouded by the other surprise that he had planned.

_"Part of that surprise was inviting your parents here."_

Snip. 

_"...inviting your parents here."_

Snip.

_"...your parents…"_

Snip.

_"...here."_

Snip.

_"...here."_

Snip snip.

_"...here."_

Snip snip sn—

“Fuck!” Patrick swears and sticks his index finger into his mouth, trying to soothe the cut there. Thankfully it isn’t bleeding too much, but he should probably put a bandaid on it just in case. He puts the vase on the kitchen table and disposes of the cut stems in the trash. 

His pulse, unfortunately, hasn’t slowed down in the slightest. 

What’s even worse is that while his breath isn’t rapidly catching like it was a few minutes ago, his skin is buzzing in a way that makes him want to rip himself open. 

Patrick’s eyes flit over to the corner where his backpack and “mountaineering shoes” sit. 

Guess it’s time for a hike. 

* * *

Rattlesnake Point has always brought him peace.

He stumbled on it accidentally on one of his hikes one day. His first month in town was pretty lonely, with Ray being the only person he knew. 

He took the same trail day after day after day until one day he went too far, a voicemail playing on loop in his mind: 

“ _Hi David, it’s Patrick._ ” 

Patrick couldn’t explain the sudden restless energy he had, replaying the voicemails over and over in his mind with the description of David’s business looped around it. 

When he finally felt a tug in his shins he decided to stop and take a break and when he did he ended up here. With a few of the whole valley. 

The view had brought peace to his whirring mind then, and he’s hoping it’ll do the same now.

“I’m gay.” He says to the empty trail and valley below. 

Saying it outloud helps settle him a bit, he knew it would. 

“I love David Rose.” 

Well that just makes him smile. 

“Mom, dad—” He starts but his voice gets caught in his throat and he needs to clear it. 

He starts over. “Mom, dad, I’m—” he gets a little closer but his breath catches and he feels like something is clawing at his throat. 

He clears it again. “I’m gay.” He says again. Easy. “I broke off the engagement with Rachel because I am gay. I like men.” No problem. 

“I’m gay, mom—” his voice breaks when he pictures his mother’s blue eyes looking at him. 

‘My sweet boy’ she calls him whenever they talk. Will he still be her sweet boy in a couple of hours? 

Maybe he just needs to build up to it. 

“I know you’re probably wondering why I moved away with no warning and haven’t called as much,” he starts, “um, I just needed a fresh start so that I could process some things.” 

Good start. Vague. But it’s a good start.

“I know you were probably hoping that me and Rachel would get back together because, well, that’s what we’ve always done. And that was kind of the problem. I didn’t want to get back together, and I think if I stayed, I would have.” 

Get to the point, Brewer. 

“So, I um, came here. And, I started finding myself again. I started doing things that made me happy and not just what I thought was supposed to be happy.” 

Getting there. 

“I realized what made me happy was sleeping with men.” 

Ok, not the most graceful way to put it. 

“I realized what made me happy was being with men. Romantically. Like being in a romantic relationship with a man instead of a woman—” Fuck. 

He’s overthinking this. 

_“I know you’re wondering why I left with no explanation,"_ he starts again, “I needed to figure out a few things. The biggest one being that I’m attracted to men. Which is probably why it never worked with Rachel—”

That joke falls flat even to his own ears. 

“I met someone,” he says instead. “Someone who is funny, and rude, and kind and beautiful—like, really really beautiful, he’s so pretty—um, and he’s a he. It’s David. I met David.” 

Of course that part comes easy. Telling people about how much he loves David has never been the hard part. 

_Then why haven’t you told your parents about him?_ His mind offers up bitterly.

And well, his mind has a point. 

But it’s never been about David. Telling his parents about David meant that he also had to tell his parents about him and—fuck. 

He manages to sit on one of the boulders so he can try to rub away the tears springing in his eyes. 

Fuck, he’s so scared. He shouldn’t be. The rational part of his mind knows that. His parents have always seemed to be okay with gay people, have never said a bad word about them—to Patrick’s face at least.

They’ve never really said a word about acceptance either. 

Sometimes Patrick thinks about little Patty Brewer, and if he would be able to do what Patrick’s trying to do now. 

He thinks he might’ve. He thinks of that sweet teenager who didn’t have the expectations of the world sitting on his shoulders and thinks he might’ve had the courage to do what’s taken Patrick a year and a half to do.

But that kid was also a people pleaser who bent over backwards to make sure other people were happy, so probably not. 

Dissecting what his youth would’ve been like if he had figured out he was gay earlier is a different issue for a different day though. One thing at a time. 

Now he’s wound up in a completely different way and needs something to get out of his own head. He pulls out his phone and thumbs through his audio files before he finds the one he wants.

“ _Hi David, it’s Patrick. I, um, was just calling to run my business plan by you in a little more detail. So feel free to give me a call back and I will be happy to walk you through it. Ok, ciao._ ” 

He replays it.

“ _Hi David, it’s Patrick_ —”

Replay.

“ _Hi David, it’s Patrick_ —”

Replay.

“ _Hi David, it’s Patrick_ —”

His breathing evens out, David’s voice soothing his nerves like a salve. David makes him happy. Their store makes him happy. The Roses make him happy. Stevie makes him happy. Schitt’s Creek makes him happy.

He’s happy.

He just needs to tell his parents that. 

“I ran away because I was unhappy,” he finally starts again after a moment, “and I needed to find what made me happy again. And I found it here. Here I get to be happy and who I am,” he says and takes a deep breath, “which is gay. Mom, dad, I’m gay.”

* * *

He takes a long shower when he gets home (he even uses that weird honey sugar scrub that is definitely edible that David keeps there) and when it comes time to figure out what to wear, he finds himself standing in front of his closet with his arms crossed. 

He needs something that will show his parents he is still the same person he’s always been. Something reliable. Something him. 

He grabs a blue button up.

* * *

Patrick doesn’t think he’s ever been so exhausted in his life. And that includes the time in high school when he played a playoff game in the afternoon and did a performance of Anything Goes in the evening. 

David comes up behind him and smooths his hands over his shoulders. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch and I’ll make you some tea.” 

Patrick kicks his shoes off and practically collapses onto the couch, letting himself sink into the cushions. David taps his leg a few minutes later and he sits up so David can take a seat next to him and put their mugs on the coffee table. 

“I made sure to put in extra honey, honey,” David says cheerfully.

Patrick laughs at the old joke and then suddenly his breath hitches and everything comes crashing down on him at once. His breath hitches again and then he gasps—

David’s arms come around his shoulders to pull him closer and Patrick puts a hand on his chest. “But what about your sweater?” he asks worriedly. 

One of David’s hands moves up to cup his jaw so he can tilt Patrick’s head up into eye line. “I don’t really care about the sweater right now.”

And that just makes Patrick cry more. 

He doesn’t know how long they sit there like that—Patrick pressed into David’s chest, gasping and splashing tears into his designer sweater while David runs his hands through Patrick’s hair, whispering soothing words into his ear.

David’s chin is tucked on top of his head, and Patrick swears he feels a few tears drop into his hair. 

Once Patrick’s sobs pitter off into tiny hiccups he finally pulls back from David’s hold. “I probably look awful right now,” he laughs wetly.

“That’s not true,” David shakes his head. “You look _very_ beautiful.”

Patrick huffs another laugh and turns around so he can lean up against David’s chest and David’s arms immediately come around his shoulders, pulling his back closer. “I’m really happy with how everything turned out tonight,” he starts after a minute.

“But,” David supplies for him. 

“But,” Patrick continues, “I had no idea it was going to go so well. I worked myself up into a frenzy all afternoon just thinking about it. A part of me was glad that I got to tell them here, in Schitt’s Creek. Y’know, incase.” 

“Incase?” 

“Incase, um,” Patrick licks his lips and tries to blink back the tears that are making their way back, trying to find the best way to phrase what he’s thinking, “they didn’t take it well. I was glad that if I-I came out and they disowned me or rejected me or something, I had somewhere to go.” He lets out a shaky sigh, “How fucked up is that?” 

David pulls him closer and tips Patrick’s face towards his. “It’s not.”

Patrick huffs. “I didn’t even get to say what I wanted to. I didn’t tell them I was gay, just how happy you make me.” 

“Oh,” David hums in his ear, “I make you happy do I?”

Patrick turns his head so he can kiss David’s jaw. “More than I ever thought I could be.” 

David squeezes him in reply. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to say exactly what you wanted.” 

“I had a whole speech worked out and everything.” 

“Well,” David says and kisses his cheek, “do you want to give me your speech? I promise I’ll be a captivating audience.” 

So Patrick does. He tells him the final product and all the versions before. 

David laughs and pulls him into a kiss—long, firm, and assuring—which is exactly what Patrick needs right now. “There were one too many run-on sentences for my taste,” David says and Patrick laughs, “but I loved it. Especially the part where you called me pretty.”

“You are pretty.” Patrick says. He turns around so he can look into David’s eyes and hopefully convey everything he wants to. “Hey, David, thank you. For tonight.” 

_Thank you for making things okay, thank you for loving me, thank you for throwing me a surprise party even though you think they’re the lowest form of celebration event._

“Anytime.” David says and then adds, “Well, not _anytime_. The party was a one time thing—everything else is ok though.” 

Patrick laughs, feeling lighter than he has in years and pulls David into another kiss. “So,” David says when he pulls away, “it’s your birthday for,” he pulls his phone out to check the time, “fifty-eight more minutes. What do you want to do?” 

Patrick smirks. “I have a few ideas.” 

* * *

David gives him the next morning off so he can have breakfast with his parents before bringing them to the store before they head back home. He feels a little nervous letting his parents see his apartment, but he shouldn’t have been. The minute they walk through the door his father is examining his television and audio setup and his mother is cooing over the photos of David that he has on his mantle. 

“Oh, Patrick,” his mother sighs over the photo of David at the store, “he really is so handsome.” 

“I know,” Patrick blushes, “I’m very lucky.” 

They sit down at the kitchen table and Patrick brings over the spread he made: pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage and toast. 

What? He couldn’t sleep. David didn’t seem to mind when he took four pancakes before leaving for the store. 

Their conversation is pleasant enough. It’s like every other breakfast he’s had with his parents before, except this time there’s something itching under his skin that won’t go away. 

“I’m gay,” he blurts out to his parents while they’re both mid-bite. “I didn’t say it last night, um, but I thought you should know.” 

His mom puts down her fork and smiles. “Thank you for telling us.” 

“Are you, um, upset? That it took me so long to tell you?” He asks. 

His father shakes his head. “At first, we thought we had done something wrong. That we’d somehow put it into your head that you couldn’t come talk to us about what was going on and how you were feeling.”

His mother nods. “But then David told us that coming out is a personal experience and everyone does it at their own pace.” 

His father adds, “It says that too on that PFLAG site, that regardless of how you were brought up, there’s still a risk of losing love and support—which you have _nothing_ to worry about—"

Patrick smiles. “I know that now.” 

“Also it says that coming out to someone is a sign of love and desire for an open and honest relationship,” his mother says and reaches over to squeeze his hand. 

His father nods in agreement, “They have a one pager on their site and everything.” 

Patrick stares in disbelief. “You looked at the PFLAG website?” 

His father nods, “That and the Trevor Project, and the Human Rights Campaign—”

“We’re members now!” His mother says happily.

“We just wanted to make sure that you know that we love you and support you and accept you.” His father says. 

“I, uh,” Patrick says and clears his throat. “Thank you. That’s—you have no idea how much I needed to hear that.” 

His dad claps him on the shoulder, “Anytime, bud.” 

“David will be excited when I tell him about all of this later.” He says.

“He’s bisexual, right? I think Roland mentioned that girl at the front desk at the motel was his ex-girlfriend or something last night.” His mom asks.

“Stevie, um, yeah, she is. Kind of. And, um, no. David is pansexual,” Patrick says, “it means that—”

“He loves people regardless of gender. That was on the site too.” His dad finishes for him. 

“I’m sorry, again, that it took me so long to tell you guys.” He says after a minute. 

“We’re not.” His father says.

His mother shakes her head, “Not if it means you ended up here, with all of this.” 

“I’m going to be better,” he promises, “about calling more, and actually keeping you updated about what’s going on in my life.” 

His mother reaches over and squeezes his hand. “We’d like that.” 

“And in the interest of honesty and keeping you updated,” he says slowly, “I should also probably tell you that I’m gonna ask David to marry me. Soon.” 

“Oh, Patrick.” His mother says and looks like she’s going to cry.

“How are you going to do it?” His dad asks.

“I was thinking of taking him on a hike.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I may need some less-angsty prompts after this one lol. 
> 
> I'm on Tumblr, come say [hi](https://lilythesilly.tumblr.com) (or yell)!


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